From Heidi Trautmann
The Life of a Woman called Ismet
When as a child you fell,
you would not show your tears,
I am sure. Your grandmother once said
you should be given the name Ismet,
a boy’s name, to be protected,
to be strong against the storms
of the life you would choose.
How right she was…
You have seen the pain in your country,
the pain of fire among your trees,
the pain of lost identity….
and you made your hands take care of it.
We are alone in our room, always,
even though surrounded by crowds,
you said to me one day, and I heard you,
and made this thought my philosophy too.
In this room you keep bowls made of paper
to fill them with the hurt and the pain
which came with your life over the years…
and I see that you honour the pain like a friend.
Like a tree you draw your energy from earth
to share it with your family, your friends
and the fruit that you carry, your art
Will nourish and inspire many young ones.